Monday, December 2, 2013

Kid Blue (1973)

Throughout the ’60s and ’70s, adventurous
filmmakers stretched the boundaries of the Western genre in previously
unimaginable ways, often using stories set in the American frontier as
allegories for contemporary themes. Yet while such provocateurs as Peckinpah
and Penn mixed irreverence with ultraviolence, some filmmakers dabbling in the
postmodern-Western arena opted for a gentler approach. For example, consider Kid Blue, a ingratiating comedy of sorts
starring Dennis Hopper. The picture was written by Bud Shrake and directed by
TV veteran James Frawley, who capitalized on his experience with such
lighthearted series as The Monkees to
earn gigs directing a handful of ’70s diversions, including the silly The Big Bus (1976) and sublime The Muppet Movie (1979). Translation:
Don’t dig too deep into Kid Blue for
auteurist statement, because Frawley mostly just plays traffic cop for the peculiarity
permeating the story.

Hopper plays Bickford, a second-rate
outlaw-turned-drifter who wanders into the small town of Dime Box, looking to
quit the criminal life for something more predictable. Alas, Bickford quickly
gets on the wrong side of Sheriff “Mean John” Simpson (Ben Johnson)—who, in
Bickford’s defense, probably doesn’t have a good side—which means that living righteously
turns out to be as much of a hassle as criminality. Still, Bickford finds
solace in the friendship of a sensitive factory worker, Reese (Oates), who
evinces qualities that suggest a closeted homosexual. (Oates plays the put-upon
textures of this character beautifully.) Bickford’s life is further complicated
by trouble with women, because Reese’s wife, Molly (Lee Purcell), is a
hot-to-trot spitfire who wants more than Reese is able to give, and Bickford’s
old girlfriend eventually shows up, as well. Meanwhile, Bickford befriends an
eccentric by the name of Preacher Bob (Boyle), who lives on the outskirts of town
while he constructs a flying machine that he hopes will take him up in the air
and away from the provincial rhythms of Dime Box.

The filmmakers play heavily
into Hopper’s offscreen persona, portraying Bickford as a hippie unfairly
constrained by the Establishment’s rules; in one key moment, Bickford undoes
his ponytail and shakes out his long tresses like a Woodstock Nation resident
letting his freak flag fly after a long shift at a 9-to-5 gig. And if the
superimposition of ’70s ideas and themes onto the Western milieu is a bit
forced, that’s a small price to pay for the enjoyably strange textures of Kid Blue. Dime Box is unlike the towns
in most Westerns, because it’s filled with believably individualistic
people—who, with the obvious exception of Preacher John, are defined more by
their troubled inner lives than by their peculiar outer behavior. Dime Box has more than its share of
shortcomings, including a slow pace, a deficit of big laughs, and an
unmemorable ending. Furthermore, Hopper’s performance can be grating at times,
so the actor fails to generate much audience empathy despite his character’s
sad-sack plight. Nonetheless, while it’s unfolding, Kid Blue takes viewers to novel places, and it does so with charm
and compassion.